The Morning After

In the morning, she wakes up to pancakes and bacon, courtesy of her husband. She couldn't remember when and how she hit the sack the previous night. Was that all a delicious dream? But her whole body aches, and through the morning fog of her memory, there is something she couldn't quite put a finger on.

Derek is extra cheerful for some reason, while Sophia is somehow unsure if what happened the previous night was real or just a wet dream. Derek also doesn't mention it. And as they converse about the normal part of their day, Sophia becomes more and more convinced that what she thought that happened the previous night was nothing more than a wet dream.

"How's work last night?" she asks warily.

"Oh, excellent!" Derek chirps. Is his smile extra cheerful, verging on being phony? "Just excellent. And you? How was the tutorial?"

Sophia is stumped. "Uhm. Fine. I guess."

"Did Brad show up?"

Sophia tilts her head at an angle, trying to shake things into focus. "I think… Well, I think he showed up. But I couldn't remember. I think I had wine or something."

"I found an empty bottle of Chateau Margaux by the couch, so that explains it." That over-cheerful smile again.

Sophia stares at him, uncomprehending. She continues watching empty space even after Derek has stood up and started working in the kitchen, the dutiful husband that he is. Sophia wanders into the living room and looks around. Everything's normal. It was just a dream. She could hear Derek whistling as he works.

She slumps on the couch. Maybe they should dine out later. Catch up. She feels as if Derek and she had drifted apart these past few days, what with her husband being constantly busy with that damn merger. Now that the dirty work is over—or most of it, she presumes—she could have Derek all by herself.

But as if reading her mind, Derek calls out, "Honey, what say you to a dinner date later?"

"What?"

"Dinner? Fabrizio's?"

"I'm already starving," she says. She hears him laugh and chuckle in that far-away kitchen. Yes, everything's normal. Nothing happened. If only she could get rid of this fog in front of her mind. Then from a corner of her eye, something juts out—the bottle of EZ lubricant. She leans over to pick it up and holds it against the light. It's half empty. Something vital clicks in place—images—of Brad naked, his cock coming in and out of her pussy—flash in her head. Her heart pounds as she realizes it was not a dream. She gets her phone, her body tensed in unmentionable feelings, and dials up Brad's number. The phone only rings twice before she hears Brad's voice on the other end. "Hello, Sophia," the voice on the other end of the line says. The voice is cool, expectant, charged with meaning.

Sophia summons the courage to drag her voice out of her throat, and it ends up sounding like a squeak. "Does he…does he know?"

A pause. "Yes."

"Everything?"

"Yes." Brad's voice subtly shifts in tone. "And he wants it again."

As Sophia stands there, clutching the phone, speechless, Derek appears from the kitchen, a piece of cucumber in his hand. "Is anything wrong, dear?"

Derek's face is overly cheerful, almost unmistakably phony.